Open Wounds (Harbour Bay #2)(4)
“That’s him,” he said with absolute assurance.
“He doesn’t look too imposing,” she commented, as she too watched the young man, her body tense with anticipation. “I’ve dated men creepier than him.”
Darryl glanced at her. “I worry about you.”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I always fall for the bad guy. Leather and motorcycles get me going.”
“That would be the worry part.”
She flashed him one of her rare smiles. “I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.”
The man stopped as he reached the door of the Saab and suddenly, as if aware that he was being watched, searched the area, his gaze immediately falling on him and Donovan. He stared at them for a moment before taking off on foot.
Donovan opened her door. “He made us.”
They both exited the car at the same time and started chasing their quarry down the street. Darryl cursed, knowing they were at a distinct disadvantage. Their suspect knew the area, knew the places he could get lost in, people who would hide him…and it wasn’t as if they were welcoming toward cops. He and Donovan would have to watch their backs. It wasn’t just the suspect they had to worry about now.
“I knew I should have driven,” he said as he tried to suck in breath. Running in blistering summer heat in a suit was not the best idea.
“Oh, this is my fault?” she wheezed beside him, easily keeping up with his much longer strides.
They rounded a corner and found themselves moving through a maze of side streets and back alleys, some residential and others commercial. Large dumpster bins overflowed behind restaurants and rats ate the discarded garbage hungrily.
For a moment they lost sight of their fugitive and savagely cursed when they found themselves at a T-junction. In silent communication, they split up, each taking a separate direction, hoping the one they picked would prove lucrative.
***
Amelia found herself on a path which led back to the main road where both the police Commodore and the suspect’s car were parked. She was determined to find the driver in time and stop his getaway. He would pay for his crimes.
The faces of her victims flashed in her mind.
She took a leap and quickly scaled the chained fence which closed off an old driveway beside what appeared to have once been a warehouse. She jumped down, landing on her feet, stumbling slightly as she made contact with the ground.
She barely avoided the blow that came out of nowhere, rolling to safety as her attacker hit the fence in the exact spot she’d been standing. Her skin burned from where it made contact with the rough concrete.
She went for her sidearm, her hand gripping the butt of the gun and within seconds the weapon was out of the holster.
The kid launched himself at her, slamming into her arm hard, causing her to drop the gun before she had a chance to use it. She cursed silently at her ineptness. She had been trained better than that. Her only excuse was that she had been slightly disoriented from the landing. She hated excuses just as much as she hated incompetence. The truth was she just hadn’t been prepared for him. He was quick on his feet, a teenager with high energy. She would need all her wits with her during this fight, should she have a chance of overpowering him.
He sent his large fists into her abdomen. She forced herself to ignore the pain as she fought to protect herself, using her arms to block further hits. His bulky mass pushed against her, sending her lighter weight backwards. Her ankle turned and she fell hard against the pavement, the action stealing her breath and jarring her body, only managing at the last moment to protect her head. Knowing she would be bruised and battered tomorrow, she lithely shot to her feet in one swift movement. Her body was already beginning to protest against the beating.
But her attacker wasn’t done yet. He extracted a knife from his pocket and with a flick of his wrist, the cool stainless steel serrated blade popped forth from within the grip. He slashed at her, the blade swished deadly in the air, nothing but a blur. She jumped back as his hand crossed back and forth in front of her as he advanced on her, leaving her with no choice but retreat.
He went at her again and she was thankful she kept her hair short, just long enough to be pulled into a stumpy ponytail. She’d heard of plenty of female officers who had been injured over the years because their attacker had grabbed their hair and used it to immobilise them. She wasn’t about to let some dirt-bag slice her up because of something as simple as vanity. She was nothing if not practical.
Amelia deflected each attack, her gaze following the fast movements of the blade as it came dangerously close to cutting her. She moved on her feet nimbly, her only chance of disarming him to be faster than he was.
She caught his arm as he moved in for what he hoped to be the first and final blow and applied pressure to his wrist as she brought up her knee, hitting him in his thigh, when he moved. An inch to the left and he would’ve been done. He cried out but refused to release his weapon, his only way of escaping without handcuffs.
Amelia stamped hard on his instep, eliciting another cry of pain from him and pushed him into the wall, applying more pressure to his wrist. Annoyed, no make that pissed off, her body taut with anger as she thought about this kid going at her with a knife. It was about time someone taught him a lesson. A slow fire beginning to burn beneath her skin as she fought her attacker. Punches landed wherever she could reach before she threw her body weight into him. He grunted, his movements becoming panicked as he realised she’d not been as beaten as he’d thought.